


Now and Then

by MostFacinorous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masochism, Pegging, kate is fucked up and she fucks shit up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 15:37:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostFacinorous/pseuds/MostFacinorous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A character study in smut. </p><p>Every scene is porn, switching back and forth between present day and six years ago, from what Kate did to Derek, to how it affects him and Stiles, now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Now

The first time, it takes Stiles by surprise.   
With all the Alpha wolf bullshit that he has to put up with in his life, he wouldn't have expected to be the one topping here, but he wasn't exactly complaining. 

And they didn't really do feelings; that just wasn't how they worked. So when things got hot, and Derek inevitably ended up on his hands and knees, or on his stomach on the bed, Stiles didn't question. He just prepped him quickly because Derek was impatient and liked not being fully ready. He used his fingers, then his dildo when he'd finally worked up the courage to reveal that he owned one—which, of course, Derek had to ruin by telling him that he'd known about it. Apparently no matter how sanitary you are, when you shove something up your butt, it still smells like you, even after being cleaned. At least to a wolf.

And once he's got Derek twisting and twitching beneath him, once Derek asks for it, the request sounding more like a plea, he slides in. Reaches around. Buries his face in Derek's shoulder blades as he comes, brings Derek off after him. 

He doesn't mind topping. Doesn't mind always coming first. 

He just wishes he was allowed to see Derek's face at any point. Wishes that it was him being filled, his prostate being hit, him twitching and writhing and begging, looking up into Derek's face, pulling him in for a mid coitus kiss… 

But maybe theirs wasn't that kind of relationship. Maybe Derek needed to pretend Stiles was someone else. Maybe he didn't even want to be doing this, maybe it hurt or disgusted him, and he knew he wouldn't be able to keep the expression off his face. 

Stiles didn't know. Couldn't ask. Didn't know how. So he babbled about how hot Derek was, how tight, how warm, how good he felt. He ignored the way Derek tensed up the moment they rounded second base, and how everything after that just seemed to be about getting Stiles off. 

Stiles liked getting off. He did. He just wanted to know why it always had to be like this, and what it means for them. What it says about Derek. What it says about him, that he's too chicken shit to make things right, when it is so achingly obvious that things aren't right. 

Not at all.


	2. Then

She twisted and he writhed, even though he was trying not to. The pressure increased on the sensitive flesh of his nipple, and his jerking just made the burn in his ass intensify. He groaned, the sound emerging wet and stuttering. 

"You look so good like this." She told him, her perfectly glossed lips splitting to reveal equally perfect white teeth. He wondered, distantly, how it was that she could do that. How she could still look so perfect while his whole body was thrumming with pain and pleasure and need.  
"You love this, don't you Derek?" She was teasing him, making him answer her, even though she knew he couldn't.

He tried, the undignified grumble that came out just making her laugh. She leaned in and traced the O ring in his mouth with the tip of a manicured nail.  
"My sweet boy." She sat back, and he winced as her strap on slipped out of him with more friction than he would have liked. She leaned in again, her fingers back on his nipples, and her hips pistoning quick, shallow thrusts into him, like she intended to saw through his body with the blunt toy. 

He cried out loudly when she deepened her thrusts and hit his prostate almost violently.  
"You are so good for this—your body is perfect for it, really. I could cut you up, and watch you heal right in front of me if I wanted, couldn't I?"  
She reached up and released the buckle on the gag, pulling it out of his mouth.  
"What do you think?" She goaded, twisting his nipple again. 

"Love you." He ground out between his teeth, his neck arching and his biceps straining against his bindings.  
She let out a laugh and he smiled, proud that even with his brain feeling so detached and floaty, he'd managed to say the right thing. He liked it when she laughed. It softened her perfect face, made her seem gentler—

She reached down and closed her hand around his cock, pumping it in time with her thrusts, quick and deep and generous. It was feeling good, now, almost feeling like he could enjoy this, if she would just—  
Suddenly she was squeezing, pulling, bending him, and he was crying. It hurt, all of it hurt, and she kept hitting his prostate, but it still didn't feel actually good. He felt himself changing, felt the itching under his shin as his features shifted and his muscles rearranged themselves to support his heavier limbs, his more forward weighted head. His claws dug into his palms and his fangs split his lips, and he looked at her through eyes tinged with tears.

"Kate, please, please please please," it tumbled out of his mouth in a sob, a litany of desperation, and she pulled out of him, let go of him, moved to his side, let him regain his breath, let him stop his tears, stroked his hair.  
Slowly, slowly, he relaxed, until all he felt was humiliated, and somehow almost boneless. He hadn't come, but his erection had flagged, and was still in the process of going down.

"Oh sweetie." She said, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. 

"I'm sorry, I couldn't—it hurt, and I couldn't stop it. I know it's disgusting, I'm so, so sorry." He was afraid she'd send him away now.  
"This is exactly why you need to be punished every now and again—you feel so guilty, and it makes you feel like you can forgive yourself. So you got a little hair on my bed, a little blood on the scarf on your wrist… If I spank you, you'll feel like it was all okay, won't you hun?" 

He felt doubtful, but he nodded anyway. And it was worth it, with the way she grinned, the way she straddled him to untie his wrists, the way her fingers lingered on the places the scarves had dug into his skin and abraded the surface, pressing down as they healed. 

"You love this because you feel like you deserve it." She told him as he arranged himself ass up, moving carefully to try and avoid jostling the muscles inside of him that were sore. 

And maybe she was right, he thought as the paddle landed on him, hard enough to welt and bruise. Maybe he did feel better after she did this.  
He was so lucky to have someone like Kate, someone who understood him, and would take care of him. 

What would he ever do without her?


	3. Now

Derek caught his hand with a wordless snarl that made his heart leap, in the not so cool way. He froze, his fingers stilling in their path through the sticky mess Derek had made on his chest.

"I just wanted a taste." He said, pushing out his lower lip in a mock pout, trying to relieve the tension, but Derek was staring at him like he'd done something absolutely horrible. His eyes weren't really focused on him though, and his teeth were elongating, his claws going sharp, his eyes blossoming red. 

"Derek?" His voice rose at the end with desperation, trying to draw Derek back to the present, instead of whatever odd, probably wolfishly primal place he seemed to have gone off to. He could actually hear the bones of his wrist creaking in Derek's grip. 

Derek blinked and instantly released him, propelling himself backwards away from Stiles, his foot getting caught in his computer chair and sending him tumbling. 

Stiles raised a hand like he could catch him, realizing too late that it was the one with spunk coated fingers. 

Derek looked away from him.

"I'm getting a towel." He said, and left the room, leaving Stiles to wonder what it was that he'd done wrong.


	4. Then

"Please." He panted, and she smiled beatifically, stilling her hand. She tilted her head, listening. She loved to hear him beg.  
After a moment, she squeezed, her deceptively thin fingers far stronger than they looked.   
"Please what?" She asked, taunting him with her tone, as well as the tips of her nails, trailing across the ridge on the underside of his cock. 

He whimpered. Whimpered.   
"Please—please, I need to… can I be in you? Kate." He sounded so desperate, and a wave of humiliation washed over him, coloring his face an even brighter red.   
Sweat damped his brow, his shoulders, his sternum—everywhere, it seemed. And she'd been teasing him for at least an hour, bringing him close and then backing down. He could tell she was getting bored with this, though, getting tired of this session. She had to give in soon, had to let it end eventually, didn't she? 

"Oh sweetie, you know you can't." She spoke down to him, voice saccharine and not actually remorseful at all. She tightened her grip on him until it verged on the wrong side of painful. A whine tore out of him, and his hips stuttered into her grasp, a non-verbal plea for the pleasure to come back.   
She loosened her grip, suddenly accommodating.  
"You know wolves mate for life. Don't you think you're a little young for that kind of commitment?" She moved her face close to him, crawling until she was covering him and letting go, her hands moving to take her weight as she dipped her hips to rub herself over him.   
He could feel her warmth, her wetness, even through the thin cloth of the panties she wore. 

His nostrils flared, pulse spiking at the scent of her arousal, suddenly so close to him. He bucked up into her, and she gave him her seductive little smirk, the one he loved so well.   
He closed his eyes, delighting in the feelings rushing through him.   
Maybe now, maybe finally, she was going to end it. He was so close—

She tapped him on the nose like he was a bad dog.  
"Look at me when I talk to you." He obeyed instantly, lips moving the form an apology before being pressed into silence by her finger against them.   
"You know you can't, don't you, Derek?"   
He lapped at her finger and she just stared, obviously disapproving, until he stopped. 

"I don't care." He told her, all seriousness now. "I don't want anything but you." 

She pulled away and he turned to try and follow her, sure he'd somehow ruined this, ruined everything, sure she was leaving…   
But then she was straddling his face, her fingers wrapping around his balls, and he leaned up to suck at the wet spot on her underwear.  
She tilted her hips back and leaned down, humping against his mouth, and he hurried to pull her panties aside with his fingers, putting his tongue and lips to good use. He pushed it inside of her, where he so desperately wanted his dick to be, and she rode him, making it hard for him to breathe. She was squeezing and stroking his cock and balls now, one hand firmly clamped around the base of him, trying to make sure they would come together. 

When her thrusts began to stutter, when she let go of him and onto his face, she moaned, turning the end of it into words.   
He was trying to breathe still, but he could hear just fine.   
"I can't risk your fat cock getting in me and getting even bigger. What if you got stuck in me? Like a dog. We're different, you know. Different species. And bestiality? Not really my bag." 

She tugged on him, one sharp, tight pull, and a feeling of relief blossomed just in time with his surge of grief and panic, the sick feeling that her words summoned battering against the release he'd been denied for so long. He came as she slid off his face, taking in a deep breath of air just as he blacked out. 

When he came around, she had already showered, and was wrapped in a towel, pressing a damp cloth to his head. He sat up, letting the room spin as his body evened itself out.

He reached for her, ignoring how her nose wrinkled. He still smelled like sweat and sex, and part of him, the part that always begged to be outdoors and running, needed her to smell that way, too. 

He held her against him for a moment, holding her as she sat on his lap, admiring how his arms were already growing thicker than hers. Soon, he would be strong. So strong, strong enough that he could promise to take care of her, and know that he would always be able to. 

"You… before, you were just joking right? Dirty talk? About us being—this isn't bestiality."

She sighed.   
"You fuck like a puppy. I know you're young, but it's more than that. We are different. What if you really do have a knot? Do you know what that could do to me? And what if you lose it?"

"I won't!" He protested. "I would neve—"

"You go a little furry and clawy every time we do this. Did you know?" She interrupted, and he closed his mouth with an audible clacking of his teeth.   
He swallowed. 

"I—why didn't you tell me sooner? I'm—Kate, I'm so sorry." 

She waved a hand, dismissing it.   
"You haven't hurt me. Yet. But the mating for life part, that legitimately worries me. What happens when you decide you want a younger model, hmm? When I'm not good enough any more? What happens when a full moon hits and your wolf takes over, and you lose your human mind and take off after some were-bitch, and rut into her?"

He's up and gone before everything fully registers, his clothing hanging wrong in his haste. 

Behind him, Kate pulled up her towel and ran a hand through her hair, grinning triumphantly as she headed back to the bathroom, intent on getting his stink off of her.


	5. Now

"I just—you know, do you have any… any kinks, anything that you think you'd like me to, you know, do to you? Sex wise?" He was shaky on how you went about broaching the subject, especially when you already were half naked and making out. 

Derek was scowling at him, too, which didn't necessarily mean anything, what with that being his default setting and all, but—

"Could you just." Derek stopped himself, and Stiles's interest was definitely piqued. 

"Whatever, seriously, I don't care, I'll give it a go unless it involves stuff I normally flush." He grimaced a little, then shook his head. "Anything you want Derek." 

"Do you think you could fuck me… like you wanted it to hurt me?"  
He balked. 

"Like, Sadomasochism stuff?" 

Derek shrugged, not really looking up, the lines of his shoulders tensed up, his hands balled into fists. 

"What—I don't have anything but like… do you want me to hit you? Or…?"

"Too little lube. Too fast. Too hard. Bite me, scratch me. Make me hurt."  
Derek sounded angry, then lost, and he shrugged again.  
"Never mind. It was a dumb – Do you just—where'd you move the condoms?"  
"It's not dumb. I'll try. But-- Actually, hang on."  
Stiles dug in his closet for a small box, the keepsakes from his road trip with Scott, when he'd first gotten his license. They'd driven all the way to Las Vegas together, only to realize that there was nothing for teenagers to do there. But they'd had fun, and had their laughs—and they'd stopped at a truck stop that sold novelty condoms for fifty cents from the dispenser in the bathroom. 

He pulled out the one he'd gotten now, a black rubber studded condom that looked more intimidating than anything else. He held it up, and felt a little less stupid when Derek nodded, looking almost relieved to see it.  
The spikes were rubber, not actually all that stiff, but the idea was there. He took a deep breath. 

"So you want me to like, order you around and stuff?" 

"You could tie me up?" Derek sounded hopeful, and Stiles thought for a moment, before retreating to his dad's room, unlocking his gun cabinet, and pulling out his spare pair of handcuffs. 

He offered them on a finger to Derek, and again got the nod. Derek shucked his pants and boxers, and turned around, hands behind his back, obviously expecting Stiles to cuff him, so he did. He came around him, walking in a circle, taking note of how hard Derek was already.  
"You really do like this, don't you?" Derek just glared at him, and he pushed him towards the bed.  
Derek lay across it half way, widthwise, his legs still on the floor, and his face turning to the side to be able to breathe.  
Stiles just looked down on him for a moment, then couldn't help the proprietary hand that slid over Derek's ass.  
"You want this to hurt? You want to be red and sore?" He brought his palm down hard, the skin jiggling under the impact. His hand stung—he hoped Derek's ass did, too. Hoped this was what Derek had meant, and that he wouldn't misstep and end up with an angry wolf on his hands.  
He wanted to ask if it was safe, but he trusted Derek, wanted Derek to know he trusted him. Derek wouldn't have suggested it if it wasn't safe.  
And obviously Derek trusted Stiles, too, after all…  
He was just laying there, tense and waiting and… Stiles let his hand fall again, rubbed the skin while it was blushing.  
"Harder." It wasn't like Derek didn't say it, all the time, when he was trying to teach the pack to work together, to fight in a way that would be effective. But this was… it was hot, but it also kind of… hurt.  
Stiles grabbed his textbook off of his desk and stood beside Derek, swinging it with both hands. His shoulders felt the impact, and Derek gasped, then arched, raising his butt up higher, asking for more.  
Stiles did it again, swinging further, grimacing at the loudness of the slap.  
"Should I be—do you want me to call you names or something?" He tried to think of what he'd imagined Lydia making him do, back when that was a primary feature in his spank bank. But it usually involved him like, polishing her shoes with his tongue or something… he didn't think that was exactly what Derek had in mind. 

"You could tell me things you don't like. About me. Not nice things."  
The tension lines were still there, and on a whim Stiles pinched Derek on the thigh, just below the line of red on his ass.  
Derek sucked air in through his teeth.  
"Or you could fuck me already."  
Stiles swallowed, trying to figure out how to get hard fast… he was trying to be careful, his attention had kind of wandered.  
He unzipped and took himself in hand, closing his eyes before realizing he had something way better than his imagination could ever conjure up in front of him right now. 

"Ask me nicely." It came tumbling out of his mouth before he even really thought about it, but it fit. He unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them off, his underwear going with them.  
"I want to hear you." He told Derek, in what he hoped sounded like a demanding voice. 

Derek shivered a little. 

"Please." It came out so easily, easier than he'd ever heard the word leave Derek's mouth before, and Stiles swallowed, unexpectedly turned on by that single syllable. But Derek wasn't done.  
"Please, I want you to. I want you inside of me, I want to feel you. I want you to make me scream, or cry, or just make me feel it, I want… please…"  
Stiles was hard. He wouldn't have expected that would affect him that way, but…  
He pulled on the ridiculous condom, trying not to laugh, and looked down at Derek, considering.  
He didn't like being stretched or lubed up or anything, and that was… that made sense, all things considered.  
But Stiles had always wanted to try this, and he figured he was never going to get a more perfect chance than now, with Derek's hands cuffed in the small of his back.  
He slammed the book down across his ass again without warning, and then went to his knees. 

"What—" Derek started, but he was already pulling his cheeks apart, licking a stripe up his crack.  
Derek tried to push his forehead away with his hands, grumbling, but Stiles retaliated by biting at his butt cheek, sucking the warm red skin between his teeth.  
Derek whimpered and stilled, which Stiles took as permission to lick again, and then push his fingers in.  
He'd said he wanted not enough lube… 

"Yeah." Derek ground out, even while he moved his hips back, trying to get more.

He added another finger and pushed them in, moving quickly and crooking them to drag along inside of him.  
Derek's legs shook, and he'd turned his head to prop himself up on his chin.  
When Stiles took his fingers out, Derek whined.  
Stiles pressed the tip of his spiky cock to his asshole.

"You want to hear things I don't like about you?" Stiles asked, the words nearly growled.  
This was new to him, this funneling lust into aggression thing, but he wasn't exactly opposed to it. 

"I hate how fucking sure you are that you're right, always." He said, pushing into Derek in one quick thrust.  
He pulled back out slowly, mesmerized at the condom's protrusions popping out of the ring of muscle.  
He canted his hips back and moved in again, his breath catching and making him swallow air before he could go on.  
"I hate how you assume I'm so damn weak."  
"I hate how you won't look at me when we do this."  
"How you won't talk to me. How you won't touch me. How you won't fuck me. Is it because you think you'll hurt me? Break me? But you want me to hurt you."

His distress had risen, more than Derek's, probably, and he wasn't even pulling out any more, just humping into him. He let go of Derek's hips and fisted his hands in the blankets on either side of Derek's forearms so that he could drape himself over his body. He raised one foot to the bed beside Derek's hips for balance and leverage, smiling wanly when Derek let out a cry at the new angle. 

"I fucking hate how you trust me enough to hurt you like this, when you know how you can heal, but you don't trust me enough to talk to me, but I trust you with my life every other day, and you don't even trust yourself to fuck me." 

It all came out in one rush, his chest constricting between how close he was getting, and how much it hurt, how much saying it made him realize just how much it had been bothering him.

"That isn't—Stiles, that's not."  
Stiles pulled out, sliding off the condom and tossing it blindly towards the trash can.  
He took hold of himself and started jerking, and to his surprise, Derek rolled over onto his back, trapping his own hands. 

His face was a mirror of how Stiles felt; hurt, anger, and dismay, and he was leaking…  
Stiles came.


	6. Then

This time it was her stretched out under him, and he was so full feeling, so happy, not because of anything actually inside of him—not this time. But because she trusted him now, trusted his control. Trusted him not to wolf out on her.

Trusted him enough to let him pin her to the bed, to rub down into her, to rock against her and bring them both off, then to kiss and pet and touch and go again. 

Now he was kneeling, rolling her nipple between two fingers, his other hand working behind him, pressing the rubber cock from her strap-on into her, while her hands worked on him. 

This was different, so different from how they normally were. She'd let him take control, had let him dictate what happened—to an extent. There'd been no orgasm denial, no kinkiness. Just him peppering her with kisses, showing her the adoration he always wanted to give her, and her stroking and goading him with soft words, eyes shining, hair spreading out around her head like some kind of halo. 

"You're so beautiful." He was moaning it, as he'd done maybe six times already, but she needed to be told it always, he thought.   
"God you're hot like this." She returned, speeding the slide of her hand, lifting it to her mouth to wet it more—he swallowed and thrust his hips forward, shifting further into her grip. His balls began to draw up. 

"I'm close." He managed, sheathing the dildo in her in such a way that her hips bucked under him, causing him to grin.   
She had to one up it, though, and brought her head forward, lapping at his slit with one broad stroke of her tongue. 

He thought his eyes might have rolled backwards that time as he began to spill out over her fist. He caught himself, though, and was glad that he did, shivering when she collected up his release and spread it out over her sternum, rubbing it across her breasts. 

"Jesus." He muttered, and she laughed.   
He lay beside her, and buried his nose in her shoulder, amazed that she wasn't immediately rushing for the shower, the way she usually did. 

"You smell perfect." He told her, even though what he really meant was, you smell like me. 

"Think you have one more in you, Romeo? I have to go hang out with some friends of mine later, and I want them all to be completely jealous." She stroked a single finger down the bridge of his nose, and he hummed. 

"Maybe after school? I don't want to be late." 

"Oh yeah. I don't have to work today, but after school sounds like a great plan. I'll see you then." 

He sat up and kissed her, sweet and long and lingering, before he got dressed and left. She dressed too, and left the house with other plans. She went out smelling just like Derek.

That day, after school, his world went up in smoke.


	7. In the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is your optional happy ending. 
> 
> It contains discussion of bestiality. 
> 
> You've been warned.

"I thought you were going to fuck me." Derek growled out, his hands secured behind him again, but on his feet, angry, while Stiles stood warily across the room, his arms folded over his chest. 

"You only ever listen to me with those damn things on, so I thought I might find out if you would talk this way, too." He was watching for any sign of Derek trying to pull one of his disappearing acts—he didn't want to send him out there like this by accident, but he needed him to actually face their problems. 

"What do you want to talk about? I'm not exactly a flowers and chocolates kind of guy, Stiles." The snap was mostly gone out of his voice, and his shoulders had drooped, but he still wasn't looking at him. 

"You're also not exactly a happy kind of guy, Derek. You make me happy. I just… I just want to know what I have to do to return the favor." 

Derek's eyes had snapped up, and he stared at Stiles in slack jawed surprise for a moment, before his mouth closed and he returned to his default facial expression of sullen glaring. 

"Well, you could start by unchaining me." He said. 

"That isn't what I meant and you know it. Now, I'll take them off if you promise you'll stay, and talk, and listen, and.. I don't know, tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing. Is. Wrong." 

"You tried to break my arm the other day for rubbing my chest after you jizzed on me. You wanna try again?"

"That was—"

"You asked me to fuck you like I wanted to hurt you. You still won't fuck me. You're more willing to let me put my life in danger than you are to actually touch me when we have sex. Does anything about this sound awful to you? Look I just—If you're pretending I'm someone else, fine, okay? If you genuinely need me to research sadism some more—and believe me, I have been—that's fine too. But I just… I just need you to talk to me. I need to know I'm not just… just a dick, right? That I'm not ruining everything every time I open my mouth."

"Stiles, no. It's not… Let me go. We'll talk. I'm sorry you thought… any of that. Ever. It isn't that at all."

"You don't know what it feels like, Derek. All this doubt, and guilt…"  
"Actually," He said," I do."

He told him. He told him all of it, literally everything. How much he'd loved her. Trusted her. How he'd been betrayed. How he'd been hurt, and twisted, how she had shaped everything. 

"She's gone now." Stiles was holding him, and he didn't know when. He didn't think he'd broken down at all the whole time. He'd told him everything in as simple of words as he could manage, short, plain spoken sentences, with as little emotion as he could part with.   
"She won't hurt you any more. And I'm going to try not to, do you understand?" 

Stiles was talking to him like he was a simple child. Like he might be confused by what the words mean.

"I know, Stiles. I wouldn't have told you if I didn't know that." He thinks he sounds calm, not as lost as he feels, and he's proud of that. 

"Okay, so here's the thing. If you want to play BDSM sometimes, if it's actually something you enjoy, that's totally great. Really, I… after that I think I could get behind it. Really. But it's not because you deserve to be treated like shit. We can have sweet, slow, gentle, loving sex too, because you deserve that, okay?"

He nodded. "I...yeah. I'd like that." That didn't even begin to cover it. He was… relieved. It wasn't really punishment. He'd sort of always known that. It was kinky sex. And if it hurt, he just didn't complain—it wasn't that he liked it so much as he thought it… added to it. Or something. Stiles would find a way to balance that, the way he did everything else. 

"Now, as far as the cum thing… I know it's not going to change over night. I do understand that—I had panic attacks for years after my mom died, and I had less reason for that than you do for your reaction. But think about it. Think about who your pack is now. I already smell like your pack. I mean, I know I'm human and all, but I like to think I'm at least on the fringes of pack, and they are all my friends. I care about every one of them. I would never hurt them, and even if I wanted to, I wouldn't need to smell like you to do it."

"Don't be stupid Stiles. Of course you're pack. Even if we weren't—even without this, you're pack. You always have been." His chest ached a little, wondering how it was Stiles didn't know that, hating that that was probably because he was so terrible at this.

"What that woman did wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known, because she was crazy and you don't expect that kind of wrongness in someone you love. But I'd like to flatter myself and think that you and I both know what we're capable of. And that brings me into the next thing. Derek, we have had sex how many times now? I've held your dick in my hands more often than I've had a full night of sleep recently, and I'm telling you now, you don't have a knot. And, I know you're usually facing away from me, but I think if you had gone even part wolf, I'd have found the shredded sheets later, right? So apart from that incident with my wrist, you seem pretty good at staying human. And hey guess what? Humans don't have knots. Not that, you know. I'd necessarily mind."  
The last was quieter, almost shy, and Derek felt his head snapping up. 

"What?" He asked, his stomach clenching, rolling… and something stirring lower, something hungry and possessive.   
Something that approved. 

"I'm just saying, you know, if you wanted to find out. For science. Or whatever. Probably I'd be down for it."

"Isn't that—doesn't that disgust you?" Derek asked, his brow furrowed, trying to understand. 

"What? You? You're you whatever shape you happen to be in. And I don't know if you've noticed, but with as furry as most of my friends are these days, if that weirded me out even a little bit, I would prooooobaly not be here now. Right?"

"That's… that's fine, but what you're asking…" 

"I want you to fuck me, Derek. I want you to fuck me as a human, and then I want you to go all wolfy and wild and animalistic on me… and if you have a knot, I want you to fuck me with it. That's what I'm asking. Is that okay with you?"

"That's… That's." It was more than okay.   
And he set about showing Stiles just how okay it was.  
Just how much he appreciated him, how lucky he was to have him. 

Derek wasn't very good with words.

But he was great with his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at MostFacinorous.tumblr.com!


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